


This Year, Next Year, Sometime, Never

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s01e01 Children of the Gods, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-08
Updated: 2010-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:57:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack takes Daniel home for the night after his return from Abydos</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Year, Next Year, Sometime, Never

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scenes from Children of the Gods

“I’m the opposite. I’ll never forgive myself. But sometimes I can forget. Sometimes.”

Daniel found he really had nothing to say to that. It was hard to argue with self-recrimination that deeply ingrained. If he knew anything, he knew that. So he allowed the words to fall into a little well of silence.

He put the beer bottle carefully onto the coffee table, rubbed his cold hands together and planted them between his knees. He’d been chilled ever since he came through the gate and it had nothing to do with wormholes and physics.

Daniel looked around Jack’s living room, trying not to cast glances Jack’s way but failing. He thought he’d probably made a huge mistake in bringing up the subject of Jack’s wife because that had led to talk of Charlie. He presumed Jack didn’t talk much about anything private, although Daniel suspected he’d been privy to some things that even those who had known Jack for much longer didn’t know.

He also suspected that few people were ever invited here. He was still shocked that he had been.

Jack was about to call time on the evening. Daniel could feel it. He’d probably clear away the bottles and call a cab any time now; pat him on the head reassuringly and send him on his way. Daniel wouldn’t have blamed him. He wasn’t exactly the most agreeable of houseguests. He’d got slightly drunk on one beer, sneezed all over the living room and blundered head-first into Jack’s private life. Maybe it was time for some pre-emptive action.

“I’ll just, um, is it okay if I call a cab? I’ll need to borrow a few bucks. To pay the driver, I mean. Just until I get myself squared away.” Daniel pulled himself up short, startled. “Money. Not something I’ve had to think about for a while. Don’t suppose bartering has suddenly become fashionable while I’ve been away?”  He quirked a small smile. He knew it was a feeble attempt at humor and winced inwardly.

_Stop babbling, you’re babbling, and no doubt reinforcing everything the man ever thought about you._

Jack eyed him levelly. “Not really.” He took a swig of beer, swallowed the final dregs and placed the bottle on the floor by the sofa. “And you don’t have to go. It’s late. There’s a spare room. I’ll make up the bed.”

“You don’t have to …”

“I know I don’t _have_ to. I tend _not_ to do a lot of things I _have _to. Like, oh, telling the truth about Abydos, for example.”

Daniel smiled, a little wistfully, again.

“Stay, Daniel. It’s not a problem”

Jack rose from the sofa and gathered up the empties before heading down the hallway. He called over his shoulder, “There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Towels on the rack. Help yourself.” His voice grew quieter as he reached the bedroom and Daniel heard drawers opening and closing as linen was sorted.

Daniel stood up, found himself swaying and felt foolish as he put out a hand to lean on the arm of the chair. One beer. One lousy beer. How could he feel this light-headed on beer when he could down pitchers of Skaara’s moonshine with no ill-effects? It didn’t make sense. But then, a lot of things weren’t making sense right now. He wondered if they ever would again.

He took the opportunity to study the house. He loved the solid, wood and stone build of the place. It had a real sense of permanence; as if this was a place someone could make a home for life.

Daniel liked that idea. He’d never lived anywhere long. His childhood had been an endless series of moves; initially from dig to dig and then from foster home to foster home. Abydos had started to feel like home. Finally. And now that was gone, too. He truly didn’t belong anywhere. And shit, but that realisation hurt more than he thought it would.

Logs burned in the fireplace and Daniel warmed himself in front of the grate. His hands tingled as the cold began to leave his fingers. What a pity the flames could do nothing about the lump of ice in his gut. He guessed a large part of that would never thaw.

He peered at the items on the mantelpiece. Medals, citations, flags –  the trappings of a military life. There was only one photograph and it was of a group; happy faces. A family shot, perhaps. No sign of a young boy, though. He hurt on Jack’s behalf that the man couldn’t even have a picture of the son he lost on view in his own home

Jack reappeared, carrying sweatpants and a T-shirt. “These should be okay tonight. Tomorrow, after the meeting with Hammond, we’ll take our lives in our hands and hit the mall.”

Daniel took the bundle from him. He swallowed hard, overwhelmed, hugging the clothes to him. Whether it was the kindness in the offer of the shopping trip, the thought of tomorrow and all the other tomorrows without Sha’uri stretching before him, or the effects of the alcohol, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the warmth in the eyes that were regarding him with an unexpected, open affection.

“Thanks.” Daniel’s heard an unsteadiness in his voice.

“They’re only spares; the T is God knows how old.” Jack shoved his hands in his pockets. He seemed uncomfortable with the gratitude.

“Not for the clothes.”

“Ah.”

“I really don’t know what I would have done with myself tonight if you hadn’t offered to bring me here.” Daniel studied the floor as he spoke, noting with detached curiosity the curiously old-fashioned design on the rug beneath his feet. He only lifted his gaze when he finished speaking.

“What can I tell you? Maybe I just have a thing for waifs and strays.” Jack flashed a grin that went as quickly as it came.

A charged silence fell between them.

“Maybe.” Daniel said softly.

Jack nodded imperceptibly, more an acknowledgement to himself than affirmation, Daniel thought.

Daniel shuffled a little, unsure of what to do or say next. “I’ll just use the bathroom,” he said, feeling awkward and not sure why. The man had opened his home, and, to a small extent, his heart to him. No need to feel uncertain. Except that he did.

He felt Jack’s eyes on his back as he left the room and wondered what he was thinking. Was he regretting allowing Daniel into his home, into a little bit of his life? Was he acting out of pity? Fuck, he hoped not. He could stand anything but pity; he’d seen enough of that in the eyes of SGC personnel when word had got round about what had happened to Poor Dr. Jackson’s Wife. He’d seen people turn around in the corridors as he approached, frightened of saying the wrong thing so running away and saying nothing at all.

He closed the bathroom door and leaned his forehead against it. He was dazed and tired and so, so angry. Angry at himself, angry at the universe. Just plain angry.

In sheer frustration, he hit his head against wood, once, breathed deeply and unzipped the jumpsuit with some force. He hated it. He hated the restricted feeling of it. He missed his robes. They were comfortable, practical, liberating … everything the drab green coverall wasn’t. He threw it to the floor, removed his Air Force-issue T-shirt and underwear and hit the shower.

The water was hot and the jet powerful. He let the stream of water sluice his body clean and realised after a couple of minutes that he had Earth soap, too. What a luxury. He washed the fucking awfulness of the day away, snagged the shampoo and washed his hair; flashed back to those times Sha’uri had washed his hair for him, that sweet laugh delighting him as she dried him with a rough cloth.

The force of what had happened, what he’d lost, hit him with a shocking suddenness. He thought he was probably crying but the salt was washed away with the soap and shampoo and he was too numb to care.  Aware that Jack could probably hear him, he fought for breath and for silence.

He closed his eyes tightly, wanting it all to just go away. Perhaps if he stood under the water long enough, it would wash him away, too, along with the shampoo and soap.  He slid down the tiled wall to the shower cubicle floor, hugging his knees, and willed his mind to go blank.

Who knew how long had gone by when a gentle tapping on the bathroom door roused him from wherever he had gone. He wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking; couldn’t remember; wasn’t sure he’d been thinking anything at all.

“You okay?” Jack’s voice.

“I’m fine.” Daniel hauled himself to his feet. “Sorry. I’ll be right out.” He turned off the water and stepped out into billowing steam.

“No rush. I’m making coffee. I can re-heat some of the pizza if you’d like.”

Daniel towelled himself off. “Coffee would be great.”  He heard Jack walk away to the kitchen.

He dried himself, tried to arrange his hair into some semblance of order and pulled on the sweats and T-shirt. He wiped across the steamy mirror and peered at his reflection as the water trickled down the glass. The droplets looked like more tears. He studied his face. He didn’t feel like the man he did a day ago. Did he look any different? Did he look like a man whose actions had led to the kidnapping of his wife? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he’d never look at himself in the same way again.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

 

Daniel found he couldn’t stand artificial noise. He’d forgotten how noisy the world was. They were 20 minutes into some film with lots of car chases and no plot and he really couldn’t take any more.

Feeling exhausted, the haul to his feet from the armchair took far longer than it should have done. “Think I’ll turn in. The beer, and everything. I’m just …  tired.”  Car tires squealed, one of the TV hero guys swore loudly. Daniel wanted to put a brick through the screen.

Jack hit the off button on the remote and threw it on to the couch beside him. “Sure. I’ll wake you at 0600. Don’t wanna be late for Hammond.”

Daniel snorted. “Hammond doesn’t like me.”

“Hammond doesn’t _know _you. Give it time. You’ll work your magic.”

“I have to be out there.” Daniel wanted to burst out of his skin. Why were they sitting here in Jack’s living room, drinking coffee, eating pizza, watching TV, for Christ’s sake, when Skaara and Sha’uri were out there?

“We’ll work on it.”

“He won’t listen.” Agitation was growing, eclipsing the need to maintain some control in all this.

“You’re valuable to us, Daniel. Invaluable. He’ll listen”

“His objectives won’t be the same as ours,” he corrected himself quickly, “mine.”  Too presumptuous.

 “He’ll see things from a military standpoint. That’s fine, that’s his job. Protecting Earth. Possibly gaining technology, who knows? Getting back Dr. Jackson’s wife will be a side issue, a happy by-product. If it happens, it happens. But it has to be more than that.” Daniel felt like he was running out of steam. “I have to be a part of it … I have to … put things right.” He frowned and shook his head. None of this was coming out right.

Desperate beyond measure, he sighed and walked over to the window. The drapes were still open, allowing him to peer out into the darkness.

Daniel sensed rather than felt movement behind him.

“It’s okay to be angry, Daniel,” Jack said in a quiet voice. “And it’s okay to be sad and pissed and helpless and all those other things you’re feeling right now. Aaand that was way too much like Psychology for Beginners.”

Despite himself, Daniel smiled at Jack’s reflection. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless and it gained one in return.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling.” Daniel whispered.

Jack didn’t say anything for a while, then muttered softly, “And that’s okay, too.”

Daniel rested his forehead on the glass. How could his life have collapsed so quickly? A day ago, Sha’uri was kissing him and he was watching her as she smiled at Ferretti and Kawalski and Carter, even though she probably didn’t know what they were talking about. The night before that, he’d made love to her on the uncomfortable dais that passed for their bed, lavishing attention on her in a way that she had only just started to permit from him.

“Where do I go from here?” Daniel asked the question, not expecting an answer.

“You go to bed. You’re beat. The rest we’ll deal with as it comes” We. He wanted to cry again.

Daniel could feel Jack’s breath on his neck and felt strangely comforted by it. He took a moment to acknowledge the physical proximity and, more surprisingly, his acceptance of it without shying away. He’d never been good at closeness; until Sha’uri.

Sha’uri.

Then he did shy away. Jack must have sensed his need to move because he’d begun securing the house for the night, picking up the leather jacket that lay on the half-wall as he passed by.

“You’ll need to borrow some clothes for tomorrow. They’ll be a little big but … take what you want from the bedroom.” Jack vanished into the kitchen.

Daniel padded down the hallway from the living room and poked his head inside the first bedroom, guessed it was the spare, and moved on.

The master bedroom was resolutely masculine. There were pictures of aircraft on the walls, the colors of the decor, drapes and the bed covers were neutral. This was a functional room, not truly lived in. It felt somehow sad and bereft.

There were books on the shelves; an eclectic mix, everything from 50s pulp fiction and Ed McBain to Beowulf, a history of opera and an A-Z of gardening. He ran his fingers along the spines and realised how much he’d missed books and the written word and, God, reading. CDs were stacked haphazardly on the floor … a startling mix of Callas and Cash, Puccini and Paul Simon.

Daniel started as Jack entered the room and hung the leather jacket in the closet, feeling like he’d been caught stealing candy from a store.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” he winced, touching his glasses in a nervous gesture.

Jack pulled grey chinos from a drawer, checked them as if for size and handed them over.

“That’s not prying. Going through the bedside cabinet in search of my hidden porn stash, now that’s prying.”

Daniel actually blushed and hid it by turning towards the open closet. There was a non-descript brown jacket hanging next to a blue top, both of which he pulled out without really thinking and placed them over his arm with the pants. Socks and underwear were placed on top of the growing pile.

“Yell if you need anything. Wake me if you can’t sleep. The infomercials are a hoot at 2 am. We’ll have a ball.”

Daniel edged towards to the open door. “I feel like I could sleep for a year,” he said, and, is if to prove the point, cracked a giant yawn.

“Well don’t. We’ve got work to do.”

Daniel nodded. “Night, Jack.”

“Night.”

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

 

The 3 am nightmare left him sweating and disoriented; the 4:15 am version left him breathless and sobbing, thanks to visions of dead soldiers and Sha’uri calling to him in that beautiful voice, detailing by rote everything that was being done to her.

Jack had knocked on the bedroom door and asked if he needed anything. _No._ Was he all right? _Fine_. They could talk. _No, really, he just wanted to go back to sleep_.

Sleep had come just half an hour before the wake-up call and he rose feeling lethargic, headachy and unsettled.

He showered, shaved, and went into the kitchen where a coffee mug was put into his hand and he was steered towards the dining table. A hand on his shoulder pushed him into a seat and eggs and toast appeared. He ate mechanically.

They’d hardly exchanged a word but Daniel was aware of Jack’s presence, of the unspoken support and understanding that meant “Talk if you want to, don’t if you don’t.” He didn’t, content to mentally focus on preparing his case to present to Hammond.

“Good to go?” Jack asked eventually, truck keys in his hand.

“Probably not.” Daniel shrugged into the overly-large jacket that smelled faintly of Jack’s cologne and felt comforting because of it.

With one hand on the doorknob, Daniel paused and turned his head slightly.

“Will I ever get to Sometimes, Jack?”

There was silence as  Jack’s mental processes tackled the non sequitur, going back through conversations until he hit the right one.

“I don’t know, Daniel. But I do know we’re going to do every fucking thing we can to make sure you never have to find out.”

Daniel swallowed hard and stepped out into the cold morning air. The door clicked shut. With Jack beside him, he set off to find Sha’uri.


End file.
